


Beneath the Stairs

by FreshBrains



Category: American Mary (2012), You're Next (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: comment_fic, Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin glances back over her shoulder at Mary, peeking through her bangs.  “Miss Mason?  Should I be concerned about anything in this house?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Stairs

**Author's Note:**

> For the iceybreath's LJ comment_fic prompt: _Any horror fandom, any, Hell Is That Noise._
> 
> Not canon compliant for _American Mary_ , but I see it as post- _You're Next_.

Miss Mason isn’t quite like any of the other landladies Erin has had before.  She’s drop-dead beautiful and equally horrifying, all doll-like eyes and perfect posture, her clothing expensive and dark.  She drinks a glass of wine in the parlor of the house, a grand estate on the fashionable side of town, and beckons Erin closer.

“There aren’t too many rules here.  I own all the property around here, the grounds, the stables.  I…” she pauses, grinning into her wine.  “I came into some money after a close friend passed.  I inherited his night club as well.”  She didn’t elaborate, just tossed Erin her key.  “Just don’t go into the basement.”

Erin nods, curling her fingers around the old-fashioned skeleton key.  She looks around at the artwork on the walls and above the mantle—photographs, all of them, of beautifully grotesque bodies.  Painted, pierced, stretched, and strained bodies, all of them grinning, all of them radiant.  “You’re an artist?”

“Something like that,” Mary says.  “My canvases aren’t so conventional.”

Erin nods again, taking note of everything she sees.  It isn’t a frightening house—doors and windows everywhere, framed photographs of Mary with several posing, glamorous women on the mantle, the noise of the other boarders upstairs.  Despite all that Erin has been through, she likes Mary.  “I’ll be settling in now.  Thanks again.”

She plants her foot on the stairs, just the heel, and pauses.  There’s a sound below the other house-sounds, below the laughter and creaking floors and music from upstairs.

A cut-off crying.  A man’s crying—messy, wet.  Choked.  From beneath the stairs.

Erin glances back over her shoulder at Mary, peeking through her bangs.  “Miss Mason?  Should I be concerned about anything in this house?”

Mary smiles, eyes innocent.  “Not at all.  Just remember,” she says, revealing her white teeth in a sweet smile, “don’t go into the basement.”

Erin faces forward again and makes her way up the stairs.  As she walks and listens closely, ears straining, she remembers Mary’s rack of spare keys next to the kitchen door and decides she’s up to another interesting adventure.


End file.
